Chapter 8
The next opportunity was only a few days later at a dinner party at Haye Park. At dinner John was not seated particularly near Miss Bennet, but he was at least on the opposite side of the table, so he could see her.
She spoke quietly and politely to the gentlemen on either side of her, though her expression hardly shifted at any point in the dinner.
She did not smile or laugh at some joke they might have made.
Nor was there any hint of annoyance that she was seated between two men each of whom were old enough to be her father.
There was simply nothing, a placid expression that was barely on the polite side of indifference.
After dinner wasn’t any different. John made his way around the room, greeting and chatting with everyone for a few minutes each. He deliberately left Miss Bennet for much later so that he could have as long to observe her as possible.
However, there truly was nothing to observe.
She treated all her neighbors the same way she had treated her dinner partners.
She did not seek to engage any gentleman in conversation, and only sought out a few ladies.
When she was chatting with others, she spoke politely, neither stifling the conversation nor extending it too long.
There was one exception. Miss Bennet spent at least ten minutes chatting with Miss Lucas, during which time she wasn’t exactly animated, but she was less apathetic than with anyone else in the room. With Miss Lucas, she even smiled once or twice.
John was surprised when he did see her smile.
The expression lightened her face from something absolutely ordinary to something exceptional.
For a brief moment, Miss Bennet was almost a completely different person, someone much closer to the lady he had seen dancing than the moving statue he had been observing all night.
Eventually, when John had spoken to nearly everyone else in the room, he made his way to Miss Bennet’s side and sat down next to her on the sofa.
He was a little taken aback when she almost immediately mentioned her brother-in-law. For a moment, he thought she was speaking of Darcy, but he quickly realized she must be speaking of a different one. She had four brothers-in-law after all.
When she did finally mention Darcy, John had to scramble a bit to speak truthfully but not to give away his identity. He was certain she suspected he was withholding information, but she was kind enough to let it slide.
He watched her closely throughout their conversation. She seemed a bit more animated with him than she had been with most of her neighbors, but he chalked that up to their topic of conversation. It must be rare for her to speak to anyone about places beyond her neighborhood.
When he moved off to speak with someone else, he was no closer to understanding the mysterious Miss Mary Bennet than he had been before, and the mystery remained as to who was the object of her unrequited love.
~~~~~
Two weeks passed before John saw Miss Bennet again. He visited the woods every day in hopes of seeing her there, but they were simply too large for him to see all parts of it. He was certain she had been there a few times at least, but he had never managed to catch sight of her.
He also didn’t see her socially. He had been told that it was a somewhat dead time of year, and there were very few social engagements. It made sense to him, but that didn’t make it easier to bear.
At least his time spent wandering through nature helped him move past his mourning for his father, and his curiosity about Miss Bennet gave him something else to focus on.
He spent most of his evenings either at the Three Barrels, playing for farthings or at the Red Lion where the wagers were significantly higher and the company was cleaner. It didn’t matter much to John, for he was always focused completely on the game.
A fortnight after the dinner party at Haye Park, Longbourn hosted a card party. Since Mrs. Bennet’s drawing rooms were among the largest in the neighborhood, practically everyone who had any status in the neighborhood was invited, which included John.
John went, looking forward to a night of whist. He enjoyed all kinds of card games, but whist was his favorite. It was seldom played in pubs, because it took a long time and a great deal of concentration, so John took every opportunity that came his way to attend card parties.
For some reason, Mrs. Bennet paired him up with her daughter first. Perhaps she was putting her child forward hoping for the slim chance that Miss Bennet would catch his eye. Perhaps it was simply chance.
John did not care either way. The entire time he had been in Hertfordshire, he had not experienced a game quite like the one he had shared with her at Lucas Lodge.
As he settled into his chair, he watched Miss Bennet’s expressionless face.
He couldn’t keep a tiny smile from moving the corners of his mouth.
He was looking forward to this a great deal.
As they settled into the game, once again Miss Bennet turned out to be an excellent partner. They were not graced with quite as much good luck as they had during the previous game, but even so, their combined wits kept them from falling too far behind.
As the game progressed, he noticed that she studied his face carefully at times. He thought that perhaps she was looking for hints about what cards he held. He knew himself to be relatively unexpressive, however, so he wondered if she was gleaning any useful information.
Based on her gameplay, she must have gained some information, but it did not help them win. In the end, despite excellent gameplay from both of them, the cards simply weren’t in their favor, and they ended up losing.
“That was an excellent game, Miss Bennet,” he said as they stood up from the table.
“You are too kind, sir,” she said. “I apologize that we did not win.”
He waved her comment away. “There is no need for that,” he said. “As far as I can tell you made no mistakes. Nor did I. The cards simply were not in our favor, and our opponents were skilled enough to take advantage of that fact.”
“Yes,” said Miss Bennet. “My aunt and uncle are quite avid players, especially my aunt.”
“Ah, I did not realize we were playing against your relatives,” said John.
“Mrs. Phillips is my mother’s sister,” she said. “Her favorite pastime is whist, but she cannot always find opponents who offer her a challenge. To be honest, she sometimes has trouble finding enough players to play at all. It is due to her that I first learned the game.”
“I assume in her rapacity for whist players, she forced you to learn the game simply so she had someone to play with,” said John. He could feel a slight tilt to one side of his mouth.
Miss Bennet’s eyes twinkled with humor, but her expression remained flat. “It is as you say. I was not truly given a choice in the matter. However, I do not regret it. I have come to appreciate the game for myself.”
They spoke about the game for several minutes, reviewing good moves and lamenting poor luck. Before John realized it, enough time had passed that new tables were beginning to form.
“I wonder if you would be so kind as to partner me once again for the next round,” said John.
He expected her to agree readily, but she hesitated. Before she answered, she seemed to study his face carefully. John could not fathom what she was searching for, but he waited patiently.
“I think I would enjoy that a great deal,” said Miss Bennet.
John couldn’t keep a smile from appearing on his face. “Thank you, Miss Bennet. I am certain you shall not regret it. Now that we have rid ourselves of all our bad luck, we are certain to win the next game.”
Her lips tipped up slightly at the corners as if she was suppressing a smile. “I do not think that is how luck operates,” she said.
Though John knew her to be correct, it turned out that they did, indeed, win the next game.
~~~~~
Mary was struggling and did not know what to do.
Always before, whenever she had fallen in love or felt attraction, she had been able to remove it relatively quickly.
But with Mr. Porter, she couldn’t seem to do so.
She could not even weaken his hold on her.
Rather, it seemed to grow stronger with every meeting.
She began to suspect that the real reason she had been able to so easily remove her affection for other men was because the men in question had given her nothing, no attention, no looks, seldom even a friendly greeting. Her love had always been a distant sort of thing, unilateral and shallow.
Every time she had met with Mr. Porter, however, he interacted with her the same as he did with anyone else. If she hadn’t known that her wishful thinking must be playing tricks on her, she would assume that he genuinely enjoyed her company.
She did not assume that he had any affection for her.
Even in her delusion, she could not imagine such a thing.
Rather, she thought that he might think of her as he did the gentlemen he tended to play cards with, as a friend and possibly a good partner.
After last night’s card party, she could not deny that they made a good team at whist.
Thinking of the two games they shared, Mary felt heat grow in her cheeks.
She remembered how very appealing Mr. Porter was as he focused on his cards and on the cards everyone else played.
She remembered the hint of a smile he would get when she played a particularly clever card or when he spotted an opportunity.
Though most people might consider his face to be nearly expressionless, Mary could discern his shifting emotions by slight shifts in his mouth or by subtle lightening or darkening of his eyes.
It was all intensely fascinating. He was fascinating, and how Mary felt about him was fascinating.
If it wasn’t for the fact that it was absolutely certain to end in heartbreak when he left the neighborhood at the end of his lease, Mary would be entirely happy to be in this state simply because it was new.
But he would leave. And he would never return. And Mary would be left knowing that she would never see the most interesting man she had ever known again.
Mary did not write another letter that morning.
She had written six already, and she had burnt them all up.
The ashes had been swept away, and there was nothing left of the words those letters contained.
Despite this, her feelings remained within her.
With such failure in her methods, there was no point in attempting it again.
She decided to go for a walk.
Once she was within the trees, she began to sing a slow, sorrowful song. Sometimes, within the solitude of the trees, she would simply make up her own tunes, but this time, she sang a song she knew well.
The water is wide and I can't cross over
Neither have I wings that I could fly
Build me a boat that can carry two
And both shall row my love and I.
There is a ship and it sails on the sea
Loaded deep as deep can be
But not as deep as the love I'm in
I know not if I sink or swim.
I leaned my back up against an oak
Thinkin' it was a trusty tree
But first it bent and then it broke
Just like my own false love to me.
Oh love is gentle, love is kind
Gay as a jewel when first it's new
But love grows old and waxes cold
And fades away like some morning dew.
The water is wide and I can't cross over
Neither have I wings to fly
Build me a boat that can carry two
And both shall row my love and I
It was a song that felt as old as time. Mary had sung it many times before when she was first learning to play the piano.
Its simplistic accompaniment made for good piano practice, and its slow pace and drawn-out notes helped promote proper voice control.
It was not usually one of her favorites, however.
She usually thought it too sentimental and too slow.
It had been several years since she had played or sung it and many months since she had even thought of it.
Now, however, it perfectly expressed how she felt, especially the second verse. Each verse, each phrase, despite their contradicting messages, expressed either a wish, a fear, or a present feeling.
She did not dance as she sang. Somehow, dancing to such a sorrowful tune when her heart felt as heavy as stone seemed impossible. But she strolled through the woods singing with all the sorrow, all the love, all the exceedingly complex feeling she could put into her voice.